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Summary
Wilbur let out a hiss of pain (and pleasure) as he was dragged out of his hiding spot. He tried moving to stand up, but was quickly put back in his place. On his knees. Between Q’s legs. Staring down a burning glare that could melt the arctic.
“Have I ever told you that you’re a fucking conniving little asshole?”
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Quackity and Wilbur's fun is interrupted, but Wilbur doesn't let that stop him.
